


In The Moments

by mikkimouse4271



Series: Being Roger's Best Friend [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Baking, Best Friends, F/M, Ice Skating, Pining, set in the winter of 1974, tenement funster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 00:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse4271/pseuds/mikkimouse4271
Summary: “Roger,” you said. “What. Did. You. DO.”“I-I just, I really wanted to know if the batter would stick to the spatula because it felt really thick when I was turning it so I didn’t think it would actually launch across the table and you know—”“ROGER THERE’S BATTER IN MY HAIR?!!”~~~~Roger Taylor: your idiot best friend since birth basically. You knew he'd always have your back and you told him everything. Almost everything. For the longest time, you were in love with him.





	In The Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something that just randomly sprouted from my imagination. I love the best friend trope with Roger because let's be real, who wouldn't want to be his best friend, in fact, ANY of the Queen member's best friend. So this is just me, drawing out my fantasies about being best friends with Roger. I do have intentions to add more to this storyline! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know Roger Taylor. This is a work of fiction and I have no idea how he would actually react.

You sat on the toilet with your face in your hands, cursing softly. Stupid, stupid Roger! It’s all his fault. If he hadn’t distracted you with his surprise visit this morning, you would’ve remembered to buy some more pads and tampons. Now, you were stuck in the bathroom without anything. Fortunately, it wasn’t completely hopeless.

“ROGER,” you screamed. You waited two seconds.

“What,” he answered, shout muffled by the closed door.

“Roger, come here so we don’t have to shout at each other!” Ten seconds of silence ensued and for a second, you really thought that he was going to ignore you. Then, soft footsteps approached the bathroom.

Roger opened the door slightly and poked his head in. “What,” he grumbled.

“I need a pad.”

“ _What?"_  He reiterated, but with more attention.

“Please, can you go out and buy some pads?”

“But it’s soooo cold out outside and I just came from the airport and I’m tired and I—”

“Roger, I’ll pay you back.”

He laughed. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’ll get you some pads. Be right back.” With a little wink, he closed the door and left.

You sighed in relief. Sometimes he really got you anxious with his teasing. Although now, your heart was pounding for completely different reasons. All it took was one little wink and you were reduced to a sappy mess. Sometimes, being Roger’s best friend was excruciatingly frustrating. You couldn’t remember when things changed, but you started to respond to his otherwise-normal-best-friend-affections very inappropriately. Every hug resulted in a pang in the chest. Every kiss on the cheek left you blushing and giddy. It felt wrong.

You gave yourself the same old speech. It’s not going to work out. You didn’t want the privacy invasion that always came with fame. You knew he already had a playboy image and even the thought about the girls he’d been with was uncomfortable. He probably didn’t even see you as anything other than his best friend. Besides, compared to Roger, you were basically a nobo—no. You stopped yourself there. Even if you couldn’t be with Roger, there was no reason to put yourself down.

The opening of the door startled you, interrupting your train of thought. Roger poked his head through once more and gave a wide smile. Ah shit. There it was again. You could feel your insides melting with longing.

“Here are your pads,” he said. He tossed them over.

“Oh thank you so much.”

“No problem.”

You fixed yourself up before leaving the bathroom. Roger was right where you left him: lounging on the couch watching the tv. You grabbed two beers and joined him.

“Here,” You handed him one.

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for running out to get me pads. I’ll pay you back.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” Before you could insist, he changed the subject. “So, Y/N! How have you been? The entire ride I talked about the tour and the second we got home, you walked right into the bathroom.”

“It’s been…” You thought for a moment. Was there really anything different in your life? “It’s been ok.”

His eyes bore into yours. Fear rapidly crept inside you. You were no longer able to hold his gaze ever since your feelings became apparent, so naturally, you avoided his stare. Of course, he picked up on it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “You hesitated.” He didn’t mention your avoidance of eye contact.

You silently thanked him for it. “It’s just, nothing has really changed, you know? I’m doing the same routine, as usual. Wake up, go to class, go to my job, do grocery shopping, sleep.” You paused, thinking about whether to mention it or not. Why not? “Maybe, when I have time…I’ll write a little bit.”

He dropped his worried expression. “So you’re still writing? Good, that’s good. You never mention it anymore when we call…” His voice trailed off into a grimace. “Well, we haven’t exactly been calling often in a while.”

A sense of guilt washed over you. “It’s not your fault Rog. You’re busy, I know you are. We don’t have to constantly check in with each other.”

“Do you really think that, Y/N?”

“I’m sure you’ve always got things to do, so it’s not a big deal if we don’t speak for some time.”

He turned his head and looked out the window. Moving to stand, he turned back around and held out his hand. You took it, confused. “Let’s have fun,” he said. “Luckily, I have the next three days free, so let’s just have fun.” His eyes were wide with anticipation and you couldn’t say no. It was a good thing you agreed to switch shifts with a coworker this week. Instead of having Tuesday and Saturday off, now you had Friday and Saturday off. Honestly, it was only because of the switch that you were able to pick Roger up.

“Ok,” you said. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Ice skating!” He pulled his bag over and retrieved a black bushy wig and a pair of sunglasses.

~~~~

“Stop—Roger no! Sto—“ You held back your laugher, but Roger noticed anyway. 

“Y/N! Stop laughing at me! My legs feel like they’re about to give out and you’re not helping me at all! You mock me!”

“I’m not laughing at the fact that you can’t ice skate. Ok maybe a little bit, but your disguise. I still can’t get over it. You look like Brian!” Another laughing fit escaped and you clutched your stomach. “And why in the hell would you suggest doing something when you’re not that good at it?”

Roger wobbled over to the wall and leaned against it. The flush on his face could’ve been from the cold or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. He muttered a few words.

“What?” You came closer to hear what he was saying.

“I said I wanted to go with you because I trust you the most!” He crossed his arms and looked away. Immediately, he lost his balance and toppled to the side. You caught him before he fell on his face.

“Roger,” you started. “I’m sorry Roger. You know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. It was just very funny.” You offered a smile and pleading, apologetic eyes. “Come on now. It’s hard at first, for everyone. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Roger gripped your arms tightly as he tried to straighten his posture. You could feel his shaking. Your right hand grabbed his left, fingers intertwined. Slowly, you removed your left hand that was supporting his weight.

“Wait. Wait!” His hand tightened around yours. “I’m not stable. You need to support me.”

You squeezed his hand in response. Somehow, your heart felt as if it was being squeezed instead. You pushed the feeling away. “You said trust me,” you said. “Right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Ok then. I won’t let you fall. Just focus on little steps.” As expected, Roger tried to walk and was stopped by the heel of the blade. You stopped him. “Roger, you’re trying to walk. Try to glide instead. Slide in small strides first. Don’t pick your feet up.”

He nodded and complied. Soon, he was able to glide a little more smoothly. Within half an hour, he was moving on the ice, without his death grip on you. You smiled with pride as you watched him skate across ice, a gleam in his eyes for finally overcoming this obstacle. For the remaining two hours, you skated with him, hand in hand, and lost yourself in the moment.

That night, the two of you cooked dinner at your apartment. On a whim, Roger decided that he wanted to bake something. You were happy to bake with him, but as soon as the brownies were in the oven, you saw the mess in the kitchen. Egg shells on the counter, powder on the floor, and dishes in the sink. Not to mention, there was still a glob of batter in your hair as a result of Roger’s “catapult experiment”. You groaned at the memory.

 

* * *

  
_In the middle of measuring the oil, you felt something hit your head. Internally cursing, you turned around to see Roger staring at you, mouth and eyes wide open. There was a spatula in hands._  
  
_“Roger,” you said. “What. Did. You. DO.”_  
  
_“I-I just, I really wanted to know if the batter would stick to the spatula because it felt really thick when I was turning it so I didn’t think it would actually launch across the table and you know—”_  
  
_“ROGER THERE’S BATTER IN MY HAIR?!!”_  
  
_“I’m sorry Y/N!”_  
  
_You marched over to him, took the spatula from his hand, scooped some batter, and catapulted it right at his face._  
  
_“Ah—!” He raises his arms in defense. Too late. The batter landed on his cheek._  
  
_“Impeccable aim,” he muttered. You suddenly laughed. He realized that you weren’t mad anymore and swiftly stole the spatula back._  
  
_“No!” You screamed. The next ten minutes were spent going back and forth around the table, trying the dodge the flying batter. “S-Stop!” You weakly protested, cheeks hurting from smiling and laughing. “We’re not going to have enough batter!”_  
  
_With a truce, the batter war ended and the pan entered the hot oven._

* * *

Even with the drying brownie batter in your hair, you felt as light as a feather, coming down from a high. Really, when you were with Roger, the both of you always reverted into twelve year olds, incapable of sitting still. Unfortunately, there was a mess to clean, so you got to work. Roger started to help, but you stopped him.   
  
“Go shower,” you said. “I’ll take care of this.”   
  
“No, let me help,” he insisted.   
  
“It’s more efficient this way,” you countered. “While I’m cleaning, you’ll shower. Then, when you’re done, I’ll be done, and I can shower. If we both clean, one of us has to wait while the other uses the bathroom.”  
  
Roger paused, looking down. “Or…we could shower together.” You almost didn’t catch what he said. Against your will, your heart started pounding again, so hard you were afraid he’d hear it. You took the easy escape.   
  
“ _Roger!"_ Sometimes you were a real drama queen. “How could you say such an  _obscene_  thing?! Are you trying to expose my pure, innocent eyes to something so explicit?” You pretended to faint.   
  
“Hah hah, you’re  _very_  funny,” he remarked. “Fine, it’s your loss.” Smirking, he left the kitchen.   
  
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For the next half hour, you tried your best to clear your mind by busying yourself, but it didn’t work. While washing the dishes, your imagination wandered into the thoughts of being in the shower with him, touching him, being touched by him. How soft were his lips? What would the touch of his fingers feel like? A caress of the thigh, a kiss on the neck, lips trailing down your body…  
  
You shuddered. It was torture to be left alone with your thoughts. On the bright side, the dishes were washed and rinsed. You threw away the egg shells and wiped down the counter. Surprisingly, only moments after you finished wiping the table, Roger came out of the bathroom. He walked into the kitchen in his light blue pajamas. At least he wasn’t in a towel.   
  
“Y/N, I’m done. Your turn.”   
  
“Nice timing, I just finished up here. Didn’t I say so? I love it when things work out just the way I hoped it would.”   
  
He didn’t say anything in response. You dumped the dirty towel in the sink and went to your room to get your pajamas. In the shower, you made the water hot enough for steam to fill the room. You soaked in the heat from under the shower head, pretending that it was Roger’s embrace. Unwilling to waste water, you gave yourself another thirty seconds, then proceeded to shampoo your hair and clean your body.   
  
When you stepped out of the shower, the steam seemed oppressively hot. After putting your clothes on, your opened the door to let some of it out. For the third time that day, Roger poker his head in.   
  
“My god,” he exclaimed. “Are you cooking yourself in here?”   
  
“Yes, in fact, I am,” you said.   
  
“I better brush my teeth fast then. Wouldn’t want the heat to evaporate me.” He sauntered in and brushed his teeth beside me. He started to hum the tune of Tenement Funster and you found yourself humming along with him. Roger rinsed his mouth first and left before you. You thought about what you’d do with him tomorrow. Maybe he would go grocery shopping with you. Then, the both of you would stay at home, listen to the band’s recordings, and play games. You went to tell Roger, but when you walked into the living room, you saw him fast asleep on the couch.   
  
Roger never slept on the couch before. Over the past two years, although he only visited a grand total of four times, he always slept on the bed. In your room. With you. Something changed and disappointment flooded through you. Reluctantly, you turned off the lights, tucked yourself in bed, and fell asleep with a heavy heart.  
  
~~~~  
  
You woke up, tears threatening, from an uncomfortably sad dream. It started off great, in bed with Roger. Not sexual, but affectionate. He had his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck. Suddenly, he shifted and moved, taking his warmth with him. He rose from the bed and you wanted to stop him, ask him to come back, but you were immobile. You thought he was going to come back when he brought his face close to yours, but instead, he kissed you on your forehead and whispered “I love you”. Everything was in slow motion after that. He turned, walked away, and left the room.   
  
Blinking the unshed tears away, you jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. Roger was gone. There was no bag, no second pair of shoes, no winter coat. Only a note sat on the kitchen table:  
  
_Y/N,_  
  
_I’m sorry I left so abruptly without telling you. I got a call from the boys and they insisted I needed to go back. I’m really sorry. We were supposed to have another day or two together, but it’ll have to wait until next time. I’ll call you when I have free time._  
  
_Love,_  
_Rog_

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos if you liked it! Comment any reaction you have. Thank you! <3
> 
> Continued in Painful Silence, the next work in the series


End file.
